


Unspoken Things

by wren_pal



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing, One Shot, Post Season 2, Rated T for language, summertime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wren_pal/pseuds/wren_pal
Summary: "This is what it's like, being with El; constantly wavering between fumbling uncertainty and sudden bursts of bold confidence. The best damn roller coaster ride he's ever been on."An ordinary summer day leads to a revelation, of sorts.  Featuring an over-thinking Mike who learns he has nothing to worry about after all.





	Unspoken Things

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just complete fluff, because apparently I'm incapable of writing anything else.

As much as Mike enjoys having adventures with El--the carnival, the community pool, exploring Mirkwood--there’s something special about days like today. Days when they can just lounge lazily together with no expectations, with silent moments that are comfortable and never unsettling. 

Hop is working, and about an half an hour ago Mike arrived at the front door with his customary “Hey,” a kiss hello, and his backpack bursting at the seams with nerdy paraphernalia (VHS tapes, comics, snacks, and games). Today, Nancy had snuck in some copies of her _Seventeen_ magazines, and El immediately took to them.

Now, El is sprawled out on the couch on her belly, elbows holding her up, flipping through a magazine with Jennifer Connelly smiling coyly on the cover. Mike is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, his eyes on the TV screen, and his campaign book abandoned at his side. It’s hot-- _really_ hot--and the fan aimed directly at them is doing little but moving the stuffy air around.

El breaks the silence, “What does...de-voted mean?”

“Oh, um, it’s like when someone is really attached to someone else...like, if you’d do anything for someone, or are always there for them, then you’re devoted to them.”

“Oh. Like a friend?”

“Well, yeah,” he begins, “but mostly it’s used for people who are...more than friends.”

“Okay,” she replies, slowly, and then, “Can I use your pen?”

“Of course,” Mike replies, passing it over his shoulder, happy to oblige to any and all requests. 

The silence returns, except for the low volume of the TV (an episode of _Who’s the Boss?_ no one cares about), the whir of the fan, and the crinkle of El’s magazine pages.

After a few minutes, curiosity gets the better of Mike, who turns partially and cranes his neck to see what El’s doing.

She’s reading the words written on the pages with her eyes slightly squinted, like she does when she doesn’t understand something fully, but there’s determination there too.

“What are you doing?” Mike asks.

She doesn’t give him an answer, at least not a real one. “Would you cancel a date with me to have a...boys’ night out?” The last three words are said slowly, as if she’s mulling them over, trying to derive some meaning.

“Huh?” Now Mike’s on his knees, hovering over the magazine.

On top of the page, garish purple letters read: _How Devoted is Your Boyfriend?_

“No, I wouldn’t,” he answers, honestly. “What is this?” he asks, even though he already knows it's one of those frivolous magazine quizzes.

El doesn’t answer right away, making a forceful pen mark on the page. Finally, “It’s going to tell me if you are,” she pauses, raising her eyes to meet his, “ _Devoted_ to me.” 

“Oh, um, okay,” he says, a bit dumbly, having trouble coming up with something else to say. The words _your boyfriend_ might as well be a flashing neon sign right in front of him, because they are all he can see now, emblazoned into his field of vision even after he looks away. They haven’t had _that_ conversation yet, haven’t put a label on anything. It’s long overdue, and the thought makes him seize up with worry. 

If Mike’s being honest with himself, he never knew people actually had to _decide_ or _talk about_ if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until Nancy told him so. In his naivete, he assumed people just got together and there was a tacit understanding of _yep, we’re officially a couple now._ Or that kissing somehow sealed an unspoken deal. 

That’s ridiculous, now that he thinks about it, because _of course_ there have been conversations on this very topic over the course of history. He imagines Marie and Pierre Curie having an awkward conversation over radioactive materials about whether they were just _casually dating_ or in a _serious_ relationship. He pictures his dad, twenty years younger (but somehow looking exactly the same), chewing thoughtfully on his Shake-n-Bake chicken, having this very discussion with his mother. Did he shake her hand as if closing a business deal? He shudders at the thought.

Most of all, he worries that putting a label on it will somehow break the spell, or cheapen what they have. He thinks of his eighth grade classmates, who would walk through the halls holding hands, putting on a show for the whole school, and everyone would say “oh they’re _dating_ ” until two weeks later, when one of them would be holding hands with someone else. 

_Boyfriend and girlfriend_ doesn’t even begin to cover what’s between them, what he feels for her. What then? _Will you be my soulmate?_ Good god, _no_. _Will you stay with me forever?_ He’d rather die. Even though those accurately describe how he feels, Mike thinks sheepishly, they just aren’t things people say (at least not sane ones). Mike realizes there is no word or phrase to describe what they have, what Mike wants to say to her. 

They are just Mike and El. El and Mike. _Boyfriend and girlfriend_ would have to do, for now, he supposes.

And here she is, taking this quiz, applying that label to him, with no questions asked. That must be good, he thinks. But how can he be sure? Certainly a pointless magazine quiz doesn’t confirm anything.

“So…” he says, trying desperately to sound casual. She looks up from the page, and he realizes he has no idea how to complete that thought. “Um, let me know what it says?” 

“Okay,” she nods, dimples materializing on her face, the beginnings of a small smile.

Mike settles back against the couch again, staring at the TV, but not registering a single word of it. Another minute passes before she begins speaking, in a halting way that tells him that she’s reading. “He’s hopelessly devoted. Your guy is totally smitten with you. He kisses the ground you walk on and would do anything to make you happy. He’s a keeper.” She finishes, sitting up so her legs align with Mike’s side.

Mike lets out a nervous laugh, tipping his head so it rests lightly on her legs, mostly just a brush of his hair, and says, “Well, it seems...accurate.”

She frowns, eyeing the magazine suspiciously “Kiss the ground?” 

“That’s just an expression,” Mike explains, flushing a bit.

“Oh,” El says simply. She’s becoming accustomed to the idea of expressions, and she is constantly learning new ones.

She tosses the magazine aside and asks, “Come up here?”

Mike doesn’t have to be told twice and immediately sidles up next to El. It’s still hot, and they are kind of sweaty, so their legs stick together a bit as they sit side by side, but neither care.

“I was thinking--” he starts, just as El is moving her face close to his, eyelids fluttering closed, her intentions clear as day. She abruptly moves back when he starts talking, and Mike hates himself for it. “Never mind,” he says quickly, moving back in.

But she stops him with a hand on his chest, “What were you going to say?” she insists, and he sighs. 

“Well um, I was wondering...” he shuts his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath.

“Mike,” she says, firmly, her reassurance clear.

“Okay well, it’s uh, that quiz...I guess it got me thinking. Does it mean...” he gives a frustrated sigh and decides to just say it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, “ _CanIbeyourboyfriend?_ ”

She looks at him with her mouth parted, blinking a few times before a furrow forms between her brows. _Well shit,_ he thinks, because either she doesn’t understand or she’s horrified by the idea.

“I thought you were already,” is what she says, and Mike feels relief flood over him. And now he realizes the confusion writ across her face is possibly uncertainty, and he hurries to fix it.

“Yes, I am. Of _course_. I just wanted to make sure,” he replies. 

“It’s okay,” she plays with the frayed hem of her shorts, “I wasn’t sure, at first. But I figured it out. It just...made sense." 

"Oh," is all he can think to say, because wow, it's official. And fuck yes, it makes sense. 

“Also, when Hop talks about you he says _your little boyfriend._ ” She enunciates the last three words in a deeper voice, attempting to imitate Hop. 

“Oh,” Mike says, again, feeling a little embarrassed by that, but he can’t stop smiling either.

“Which is weird,” she goes on. “You’re not little,” she punctuates this statement with a poke to his side. 

He squirms a bit, yelps, and says “Yeah I guess it’s just an--”

“--expression,” she finishes for him, smiling and grabbing on to his wrist.

She’s moving in again. No way he’s going to let his traitorous voice interrupt this moment again. Their lips are millimeters apart when she pulls away quickly, and Mike can’t help but let out a frustrated, and slightly embarrassing, whine. 

“He also says you’re like a puppy,” she says, the thought just occurring to her, and it’s not lost on Mike that just seconds ago he whined, not unlike a puppy. “Is that an expression too?”

Mike flushes bright red and silently curses Chief Jim Hopper. _He’ll pay for this_ , he thinks, even though he knows he’ll never follow through on that threat. 

“Um, well…” Mike struggles for a bit. He knows what Hop meant by that statement (it wasn’t necessarily a cruel thing to say, and it’s probably true, given how much he fawns over El and practically drools over her, but it does imply he's a bit...pathetic maybe?) He doesn't want to lie to her, but he's not sure how to say it without completely humiliating himself.

“Yeah, it's an expression,” he continues, taking a deep and shaking breath, “Puppies are…” he struggles, “puppies are…”

“...cute?” El finishes for him, her eyes curious but her slight smile a bit mischievous.

“Um, well yeah, but--"

“That makes sense. You're cute,” she insists, her smile growing wider, and her eyes darting around his face.

Something changes in Mike at this moment. This is the moment he ceases to be Frogface and feels like _Han Fucking Solo_. He’s pretty sure if he looked in the mirror right now, he’d see himself differently. Maybe there’d even be _swagger_ there. He's never had anyone imply he was any sort of attractive (except for his mom, who insists he's _handsome_ , but he's sure that doesn't count. Aren’t mothers obligated to say that no matter _what_ you look like?) 

And while El’s given him compliments like _you look nice_ or _I like your freckles_ , she’s never outright used an adjective like _cute_ before.

It was a simple statement, but something deep inside Mike, something he’s never actively acknowledged before, is soothed, as if she tended to some internal wound that’s been festering for years.

He wants to say more, something sappy, like _well, you’re beautiful,_ but he doesn’t get the chance. He doesn’t get the chance because they’re kissing now, hands clasped together and eyes closed, lips meeting over and over, sweetly and softly. She sighs against the kiss, and Mike cracks his eyes open a bit to look at her, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheek. Maybe he looks to reassure himself that she’s real, or maybe it’s because he finds it difficult to _stop_ looking at her. 

It’s funny to think, just minutes ago, he was consumed by self-doubt. This is what it's like, being with El; constantly wavering between fumbling uncertainty and sudden bursts of bold confidence. The best damn roller coaster ride he's ever been on. 

Over time, he finds that he doubts himself less and trusts in _them_ more, learns that she will detect any burgeoning anxiety on his part, and preemptively respond with reassuring words and actions. And he will do the same for her. 

For now, through the kiss, he wills her to understand what he can’t say, a mantra of _always you and me, you and me, you and me_. And maybe it’s wishful thinking on his part, but he’s pretty certain her unspoken response is _yes, yes, forever, yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
